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Well, I spent four hours researching and going over details for the idea that I mentioned in the crossover thread, and here's a preview/first chapter. It's technically not a ZnT fic yet, and it's actually the first fanfic I've ever written, but let's go:

Spoiler for Napoleon/ZnT crossover:

“The men…..will obey….. Me!”

“No, my emperor. The men will obey their generals. That is how war is always conducted.”

The eyes of the Emperor Napoleon widened in shock. It had not occurred when he had realized that his Grand Army was doomed in the wastelands of Russia. For the two years after that defeat, he had resisted as all of Europe, his Empire, had risen up, against the principles of the Revolution and French supremacy. Now, in the year of 1814, Paris had fallen at the hands of all of the nations of Europe. Englishmen, Spaniards, Russians, Prussians, and Austrians, all of them had united to finally defeat the man whom they viewed as a madman, a conqueror who endlessly sought blood, and he had still nearly won.

Defeat in Russia had not stunned him. The loss of Paris had not either – these were setbacks, temporary, and he knew that he would have a way to regroup and reach for his destiny among the stars. But now, his marshals – men whom had fought with him for at least a decade, were telling him that it was over.

The Emperor sighed and glanced out the window. He had retreated to the palace of Fontainebleau, an ancient and decrepit castle that he had renovated after receiving his rightful title as Emperor. And here he was, cornered at last.
Michel Ney, one of the marshals whom had been standing across from Napoleon, cleared his throat, treating the silence of his master as a signal to continue.

“It is not just us. The Senate has clearly indicated that you will not be able to rule. They have voted the creation of a new government, led by Talleyrand. They are calling you a criminal, for implementing excessive taxes and using conscription to bleed our young men out in faraway lands.”

“Talleyrand?”

Napoleon’s eyes had originally been scheming with an air of desperation, like a chess player desperately finding a way for his king to escape checkmate. But now they flared up with hostility, and the aura of rage dripped through his voice.

“I should have had him assassinated at least five years ago - Europe would have remained mine if not for that simple step. But the Senate? What business do they have calling me a criminal? They backed me every step as I implemented those laws and never murmured a word. None of them would have power if it wasn’t for me. If I am a tyrant and have betrayed the Revolution by spreading it throughout Europe, then they are also equally guilty.”

Ney remained silent to these statements. Perhaps Napoleon was right. It was not for him to decide, and it changed nothing about the fact that the Emperor must abdicate. And everyone in the room knew it as silence reigned for the next few minutes.

“Very well.”

Napoleon sighed and rose up from his seat.

“I will abdicate, to save my Empire and France. But my son will retain control, with the Empress as regent. Go, inform the Allies of this proposition, and leave me alone. I will compose my memorandum to leave the throne.”

As the marshals departed, Napoleon looked around at his study. Fontainebleau may have been the creation of the great king, Francis I, but he had never been one for personal extravagance. It was a sparse room, filled only with that which he deemed necessary. Now he sat at his desk and began composing a letter, the letter that would be the end of his Empire. Napoleon was no fool after all – even if he had ordered his marshals to state that he would abdicate in favor of his son, he would be shocked if the Allies actually accepted those conditions. The boy would never be a ruler, but would probably be raised by his wife’s Austrian father, while he himself would live out his days in jail or exile. Meanwhile, the Bourbons, those fat slobs who had ruined this country and had acted like the world belonged to them from the moment of their birth, would come back as Europe would work to plunder the country which while not like his home of Corsica, was the land in which he had resided for most of his life.

He idly tugged at the pouch draped around his neck. It was filled with poison, something which he had obtained as he retreated from a burning Moscow. That had been the moment when he had realized the peril that his army of 300,000 was in, and had obtained the pouch for his own protection. Death was not something to fear, but capture and humiliation, especially by men as mercurial as Tsar Alexander I, was something he wished to avoid. Even now, the odds were not completely zero - a miracle could occur to save him and his Empire. When it did reach that number, then he would end his own life.

A sound occurred from behind him, and at first Napoleon wondered what reason Ney would have to return. But it was different, a peculiar humming sound, and all of a sudden, there was a strange feeling in the air, that something that should not have been there was indeed there. As the hairs on his back of neck stood up, Napoleon rose from his desk and looked across the room.

It was a blue circle of some kind, with a weird emblem of a star in the center. Perhaps it was the way it just floated as if the laws of gravity did not apply to it, but years of fighting meant that Napoleon’s instincts were incredibly powerful. And that old sense told him that whatever this circle was, it wasn’t part of the world he knew. Especially when the circle opened like a door would, and Napoleon was able to look in.

It was blackness; blackness which somehow he knew just existed endlessly, perhaps without end. An uncontrolled shudder moved throughout his body, yet there was a new feeling, one which he couldn’t recognize at first, but he eventually realized.

It was the feeling of discovering something new, of excitement. Rulers didn’t have time for such things, especially ones whom had been fighting for the world like he had spent the past 15 years doing. But the Emperor somehow knew that this led to somewhere new, and that created this feeling of excitement. Was he not pondering his death anyways, the ultimate abandonment to this current mortal plane? Had not his generals and people betrayed him? Were not all the armies of Europe, those who had been his enemies for years upon years, preparing to march upon and capture him once and for all?

Napoleon somehow knew. That if he went through the circle, there was no returning. That if he jumped through, and then maybe he would be condemning himself. Perhaps this circle, as strange and innocuous as it was, was simply the entrance to the gates of Hell.

It didn’t matter. This was an escape from this world, a refuge. And so, with a lightness in his step that had not existed since he had been a young man traipsing through Paris, he walked through the circle, into the blackness, and looked back on his palace and room, as the circle closed upon him, and left him in a place without light or sound. Napoleon was enveloped in a world where the concept of nothingness had complete supremacy.

Well, I spent four hours researching and going over details for the idea that I mentioned in the crossover thread, and here's a preview/first chapter. It's technically not a ZnT fic yet, and it's actually the first fanfic I've ever written, but let's go:

Spoiler for Napoleon/ZnT crossover:

“The men…..will obey….. Me!”

“No, my emperor. The men will obey their generals. That is how war is always conducted.”

The eyes of the Emperor Napoleon widened in shock. It had not occurred when he had realized that his Grand Army was doomed in the wastelands of Russia. For the two years after that defeat, he had resisted as all of Europe, his Empire, had risen up, against the principles of the Revolution and French supremacy. Now, in the year of 1814, Paris had fallen at the hands of all of the nations of Europe. Englishmen, Spaniards, Russians, Prussians, and Austrians, all of them had united to finally defeat the man whom they viewed as a madman, a conqueror who endlessly sought blood, and he had still nearly won.

Defeat in Russia had not stunned him. The loss of Paris had not either – these were setbacks, temporary, and he knew that he would have a way to regroup and reach for his destiny among the stars. But now, his marshals – men whom had fought with him for at least a decade, were telling him that it was over.

The Emperor sighed and glanced out the window. He had retreated to the palace of Fontainebleau, an ancient and decrepit castle that he had renovated after receiving his rightful title as Emperor. And here he was, cornered at last.
Michel Ney, one of the marshals whom had been standing across from Napoleon, cleared his throat, treating the silence of his master as a signal to continue.

“It is not just us. The Senate has clearly indicated that you will not be able to rule. They have voted the creation of a new government, led by Talleyrand. They are calling you a criminal, for implementing excessive taxes and using conscription to bleed our young men out in faraway lands.”

“Talleyrand?”

Napoleon’s eyes had originally been scheming with an air of desperation, like a chess player desperately finding a way for his king to escape checkmate. But now they flared up with hostility, and the aura of rage dripped through his voice.

“I should have had him assassinated at least five years ago - Europe would have remained mine if not for that simple step. But the Senate? What business do they have calling me a criminal? They backed me every step as I implemented those laws and never murmured a word. None of them would have power if it wasn’t for me. If I am a tyrant and have betrayed the Revolution by spreading it throughout Europe, then they are also equally guilty.”

Ney remained silent to these statements. Perhaps Napoleon was right. It was not for him to decide, and it changed nothing about the fact that the Emperor must abdicate. And everyone in the room knew it as silence reigned for the next few minutes.

“Very well.”

Napoleon sighed and rose up from his seat.

“I will abdicate, to save my Empire and France. But my son will retain control, with the Empress as regent. Go, inform the Allies of this proposition, and leave me alone. I will compose my memorandum to leave the throne.”

As the marshals departed, Napoleon looked around at his study. Fontainebleau may have been the creation of the great king, Francis I, but he had never been one for personal extravagance. It was a sparse room, filled only with that which he deemed necessary. Now he sat at his desk and began composing a letter, the letter that would be the end of his Empire. Napoleon was no fool after all – even if he had ordered his marshals to state that he would abdicate in favor of his son, he would be shocked if the Allies actually accepted those conditions. The boy would never be a ruler, but would probably be raised by his wife’s Austrian father, while he himself would live out his days in jail or exile. Meanwhile, the Bourbons, those fat slobs who had ruined this country and had acted like the world belonged to them from the moment of their birth, would come back as Europe would work to plunder the country which while not like his home of Corsica, was the land in which he had resided for most of his life.

He idly tugged at the pouch draped around his neck. It was filled with poison, something which he had obtained as he retreated from a burning Moscow. That had been the moment when he had realized the peril that his army of 300,000 was in, and had obtained the pouch for his own protection. Death was not something to fear, but capture and humiliation, especially by men as mercurial as Tsar Alexander I, was something he wished to avoid. Even now, the odds were not completely zero - a miracle could occur to save him and his Empire. When it did reach that number, then he would end his own life.

A sound occurred from behind him, and at first Napoleon wondered what reason Ney would have to return. But it was different, a peculiar humming sound, and all of a sudden, there was a strange feeling in the air, that something that should not have been there was indeed there. As the hairs on his back of neck stood up, Napoleon rose from his desk and looked across the room.

It was a blue circle of some kind, with a weird emblem of a star in the center. Perhaps it was the way it just floated as if the laws of gravity did not apply to it, but years of fighting meant that Napoleon’s instincts were incredibly powerful. And that old sense told him that whatever this circle was, it wasn’t part of the world he knew. Especially when the circle opened like a door would, and Napoleon was able to look in.

It was blackness; blackness which somehow he knew just existed endlessly, perhaps without end. An uncontrolled shudder moved throughout his body, yet there was a new feeling, one which he couldn’t recognize at first, but he eventually realized.

It was the feeling of discovering something new, of excitement. Rulers didn’t have time for such things, especially ones whom had been fighting for the world like he had spent the past 15 years doing. But the Emperor somehow knew that this led to somewhere new, and that created this feeling of excitement. Was he not pondering his death anyways, the ultimate abandonment to this current mortal plane? Had not his generals and people betrayed him? Were not all the armies of Europe, those who had been his enemies for years upon years, preparing to march upon and capture him once and for all?

Napoleon somehow knew. That if he went through the circle, there was no returning. That if he jumped through, and then maybe he would be condemning himself. Perhaps this circle, as strange and innocuous as it was, was simply the entrance to the gates of Hell.

It didn’t matter. This was an escape from this world, a refuge. And so, with a lightness in his step that had not existed since he had been a young man traipsing through Paris, he walked through the circle, into the blackness, and looked back on his palace and room, as the circle closed upon him, and left him in a place without light or sound. Napoleon was enveloped in a world where the concept of nothingness had complete supremacy.

That's a very promising start here.

As for ZnT fanfiction, the majority are as said, crossovers. It's really a testimony to the fact that many good writers regard Saito as a disappointing, mediocre character, or at least one horribly unsuited for someone with Louise's issues. Hence, the huge profusion of ZnT Crossovers.

There's one called Stupid Devil Dog though that features a less head bang worthy Saito though. However, that Saito is so different it might as well be an AU.

The pavilion was overwhelming, packed with dozens of young men and women milling about the grass, their chattering rising into an illegible drone that threatened to crush her concentration. Fauna of all kinds milled about, and the short-statured girl tried her best not to pay any of the beasts any mind—but how could she not pay them mind? Creatures of all kinds accompanied each and every one of the people here, ranging from the mundane to the fantastic! Even her hated rival was kneeling down next to a sinuous reptile clad in red scales, and further off, a great dragon stood poised over everyone, next to the girl reading a small book.

The droning began to quiet down, and she felt a spike of alarm. Their balding instructor was talking as he looked about. “Have we gone through everyone?” he called, making sure everyone had underwent the trial.

She scowled as her rival grinned at the man. “No, not yet,” she said, sounding all the cat that had gotten the cream. “Miss Valličre is left,” she told him as she turned, looking straight at her. Louise de la Valličre started as their attention focused now on her, the only one remaining who had not underwent the summoning of a familiar. After a moment, her lips twisted into a pouting frown of irritation.

Before she knew it, she was in the middle of a clearing, facing her instructor and surrounded by every one of her fellow pupils. They were whispering all around her.

“It’s Louise the Zero, man…”

“What is she going to summon?”

“I’m sure she can’t. It’ll be another explosion and that will be it.”

She put it out of her mind to the best of her ability. But then that damnable Kirche spoke again!

“You said that you can summon something greater than this boy, right, Louise?” she asked, her aggravating smirk still painted on her face.

“Naturally!” she responded with all the grace of a noblewoman, but she looked away, her slender hand tightening on her wand as her nervousness flooded through her system. “I beg you…” she whispered, too low for anyone to hear.

She mustered her courage and snapped her wand up.

“My slave, who lives somewhere in the universe!” she called, beginning her invocation. Confusion immediately erupted among the throng, and one girl clearly asked what was up with her chant. She put it out of her mind, focusing only on her spell, trying to bring forth all of her willpower and magic.

Her wand waved in a circle, almost of its own volition, and she slashed it downwards, pointing it before her.

The screams were deafened over the resulting explosion as fire and smoke burst from its tip, swallowing her and a third of the pavilion whole.

The rumbling shook the whole school, and students angrily picked themselves up from where they were thrown from the ground.

“I knew this was going to happen!” one boy shouted, coughing up dust.

One of the handsomest boys there knelt down to a fallen girl, concerned. “Are you all right, Montmorency?”

But the girl could only stutter, staring and pointing at ground zero of the blast.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking up to where she pointed. And he, too, froze on the spot.

A book hung silently in the air, upheld by nothing. They could feel no magic, see no strings that could be keeping it suspended in midair. Ancient leather wrapped the tome, lined in gold around a brilliant pointed cross. Iron chains without any lock bound the thick book shut, as if to keep its contents sealed forever.

Louise stared at it, stupefied. What in the Founder’s name was this? She could hear everyone whispering, their words ranging from the confused to the derogatory as they spoke of her unusual failure.

Words that died on their lips as the tome began to emit an eerie, dreadful light.

The world around them seemed to darken as violet, almost impossibly black light poured out from the surfaces of the book, and Louise stepped back, her heart thudding in her chest. Apprehension and fear coursed through her, but she could not run. She felt an unbearable pressure upon her, rooting them all in place as the air around the book seemed to warp, making it look as if it were growing larger… or perhaps everything else smaller, as if they were all utterly insignificant to its power.

The gemstone held in the center of its cross seemed to swallow Louise whole, and the ground began to shake, and the girl found herself stumbling, throwing her spindly arms out to catch herself as she fell to the ground before it.

People were shouting and screaming, begging for Louise to stop what she was doing, but they could not run, and she could do nothing! This wasn’t her fault! She had no more control over this than they did!

The ancient leather of the tome was beginning to move, veins bulging out across it if it were alive—and Louise knew in her heart that it was alive. Its entire form began to shudder and pulse, and without warning, the chains of iron shattered, and the book threw itself open to reveal blank pages to Louise. One by one, its pages swept by, six hundred and sixty six pages of nothingness streaming through her vision, each one alight with that malevolent glow.

And then it spoke, its words reverberating throughout her mind and to everyone’s ears.

“Ich entferne eine Versiegelung.”

The book slammed shut with a dreadful finality, lowering itself from its towering stance, rotating until its golden cross faced Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Valličre directly. She could only back away slowly, afraid of the terrible pressure emanating from the tome. Once more, its voice spoke, full of paradoxical command and subservience.

“Anfang.”

And the cross began to glow a brilliant gold, like molten sunlight, followed by a brilliant white and violet light.

A similar light burst out from Louise’s chest, a pinpoint of vital energy that sparkled and burned as it lifted up before her fearful, wondering eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest, perfectly in sync with the pulsing of the book as that light crept towards it. A runic circle of the likes she’d never seen exploded around them, twisting a black triangle within a black circle into existence, blinding her with its light, until it hung between the book at the tiny light that had come from her body.

The screaming from the students had stopped. EVERYTHING had stopped. When the light cleared, Louise looked up, seeing that little pinpoint of energy hovering upwards. And she looked down, and once more her breath caught in her throat as four figures draped in black knelt in front of her, within the runic circle of unknown origin, with the tome hovering over them all imperiously.

“Confirmed startup of the Book of Darkness,” the woman in the forefront said, her hair such a brilliant strawberry blonde it seemed pink, much like her own.

“We are the guardian knights who will gather for the Book of Darkness, and protect its master,” said the blond-haired woman kneeling beside the first, head lowered in a perfect stance of subservience.

“Clouds that gather under the Master of the Night Sky…” came the deep, strong voice of the man behind them, his skin dark and his hair white and hiding wolven ears of gray-blue fur.

“The Wolkenritter await your command,” said the little girl that knelt at their side, her hair like fire braided into twin tails.

All at once, Louise’s senses shut down, and she plunged into darkness.

Because it would actually be pretty hard. Sure its fun, but not every fic can be a ROFLSTOMP where the chosen summon does something better than Saito: How does the summon change canon? Will events even start or not start? How about the politics? Will politics play into effect? Etc etc. Butterfly effect, in short terms. Changing just one thing can lead to things spiraling out of control.

Because it would actually be pretty hard. Sure its fun, but not every fic can be a ROFLSTOMP where the chosen summon does something better than Saito: How does the summon change canon? Will events even start or not start? How about the politics? Will politics play into effect? Etc etc. Butterfly effect, in short terms. Changing just one thing can lead to things spiraling out of control.

I respect your opinion, but just because a idea is overdone That does not mean is stop being fun

Actually, a lot of ideas stop being fun because people overdo them.

In this case, the fact that there is an infinite possibility of Louise summoning familiars from all over place is the reason why people don't talk about them, simply because there's too many, and it takes a conversation just to list them all. And yet, there are too many to choose from and not all of them are good, being updated, or simply worth the time talking about, and picking the good ones out is also a different way of wasting time.

Of course, that doesn't mean the idea itself stopped being attractive. People are still doing it. In fact, I tried it myself. It's fun picking someone more competent than Saito from another series and have Louise summon them, but my fic is just one out of many, and it's generic to the point that people forget it quickly.

Quote:

Originally Posted by demino_hellsin

An odd proposition of ZnT fanfiction plot is what I'm looking for.

"Lousie does not summon Saito. In fact, she doesn't summon anyone at all. She ends up branding herself with the runes of Gandlfr. Mage or familiar, where does her fate lie?"

I am very interested in working out the story. But I don't think my knowledge of the lore is enough to give the premise justice. Especially where Louise would lie: mage or familiar? Will her family disown her? Would she be expelled? Just a few of the problems I have to think of.